When Paul awoke the follwing morning, he found that, indeed, his hand had turned blue. Not a deep, passionate blue as one would expect to find after having slept on one's hand all the night through, but a vibrant, silvery blue. A blue which would best remind one of polished metal. It is as the prophecy has said, he though to himself in his astonishment. Perhaps, forsooth, I am, in fact, the one that these foolish men have waited for all their wasted lives. And now, maybe, I can yet help them see the true path of enlightenment and capitalism to which I have been exposed since my turbulent childhood.

     As he surmounted the feathery sleeping-bed, he discovered that the woman-child Leena had remained in his relax-o-chamber for much longer that the thirty minutes originally discussed. Her lithe, supple body was still wrapped elegantly around his leftmost arm. Within his immaculate loins he detected an increasing surge of hot, tumultuous circulatory fluid. Paul's temples began to throb compulsively while his callous-ridden hands tantalized and caressed her dark and increasingly convex nipples. The girl-woman began to moan deep within her mucus-drenched throat, a sound of such driving desire that he thought he might suddenly burst with a great moist popping sound that would be heard all the way to Hoboken.

     (Hoboken, the thirteenth colony in the Hgruuk Nylluka Territories, was at this time a very popular recreational resort for all varieties of high-ranking government officials and mall-creatures. Nyack, the capital city of Hoboken, featured, among other choice amenities, many huge and unsurmountable stretches of shopping areas, sidewalk cafes and overpriced hair salons. Over the course of a Standard Time Cycle, the colony of Hoboken could suffuse between 7 and 8 million entities in exorbitant rapture without even lifting a manipulating digit.

     Visitors to the frighteningly delightful colony of Hoboken (Ho-bo'-ken) would be even more numerous in number than they are now, if not for the imperceptibly malign interference of the Evil Emperor Flarn, whose vast fleet of space-pirate galleons would often ravage this fabulously lovely pleasurescape for absolutely no good reason. Time and time again, the Evil Emporer's jovial minions would repeately beat the metaphorical stuffing out of the happy-go-lucky colony of Hoboken to the ponderous beat of Flarn's conga-drums which he played incessantly while bathing.)

     Soon thereafter, Paul's most lurid pleasure-desires were sated. While the beauteous babe-thing Leena caressed his ever-wilting tube-snake with a warm handi-wipe, he lapesed back into a deep sleep much like that which his primitive ancestors would have enjoyed in the the scortching outback of his home planet, only surrounded by fewer scorpions and rocks.